the Trap
by le-ouiaboo
Summary: Prussia/France/Spain: The prompt was Prussia and Spain meeting France for the first time, thinking he's a girl, kiddy-courting him, then finding out he's a boy, but still kiddy-courting him. Exactly as wacky as it sounds. Man, I can't believe I forgot I wrote this, it's my fave.


[note]

_This is my headcanon for how they met, but the time period is purposefully vague. At the time that France dresses like a girl during canon, around the Carolingian era, Prussia and Spain should have been told France is a boy, but for the story's sake, we'll say they forgot or never made the connection to tiny France under the Roman Empire._

* * *

"Is that France?" Prussia muttered in disbelief, staring down at the procession from his perch on the balcony. At his side, Spain nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes, that's _Francia_! Isn't she beautiful?" Spain gushed. "I had no idea someone so cute was my neighbor all this time!"

And Prussia felt the same. After all he had heard about the northwest corner of Europe, he had been expecting a sort of hideous and unholy hybrid of Latin and Germanic bloodlines, some shifty-eyed scheming braggart with a prominent nose and unruly red hair, an ill-favored descendant of Gaul and Rome and Germania and God knows what else bred there.

To his surprise, France turned out to be beautiful, stunning, even, and most importantly, everything Hungary was not. Graceful and slender, with long wheat-gold curls and big blue eyes, clear pale skin best described as roses and cream – by far the most attractive young nation he had ever seen. (Not that he had met very many of their kind, but still.) Rumor had it that other kingdoms were competing for France's attentions, not only to capitalize upon her growing wealth and influence, but also to make gains into her fecund lands.

Actually, Prussia was not exactly sure what "fecund" meant, and perhaps he didn't want to, but he was not about to let this opportunity pass, and certainly not to someone as flighty as Spain. He cast one last glance over his shoulder, at the fairy princess below astride her delicate white steed, and then followed the still babbling Spain downstairs to meet the kingdom of France for the first time.

This fabled first meeting did not go as smoothly as expected. No rose petals fluttering through the wind, no heavenly music in the air, just the sound of an adolescent cursing in French as the heel of her boot got caught in a stirrup. Prussia rushed to help France down from her horse, but as Spain was marginally taller and stronger, he got the honor instead, and in the ensuing scuffle, neither of them noted anything unusual about their guest.

Giggling, France gave both Prussia and Spain a kiss of appreciation on their cheeks, causing them to blush fiercely.

"My thanks for such a gallant welcome!" she remarked in a low voice, husky and sweet like honey. "Let me introduce myself! I am the kingdom of France, as you can surely guess. And you must be…?"

"I am Spain, and this is-"

"Prussia! Of the most awesome order of the Teutonic knights!"

Spain glared at Prussia, but decided to forgive him his outburst, since he was a guest here as well, and wasn't much competition in the first place, being scrawny and generally annoying.

"Well, I am very pleased to meet the both of you," France replied, curtsying prettily in a flurry of skirts. She straightened up, and it was then that Spain noticed that she was taller than he was despite their similar age, and it was then that Prussia noticed the slim and unfeminine sword belted over her tunic. Yet neither of these observations seemed very significant when compared to the fact that such a pretty girl had actually kissed them first.

France laughed as the two suddenly recalled their situation and vied for the chance to hold her hand, and before it got too rough, she solved the problem by taking both of their hands in her own, declaring that friends should not fight. And not wanting to upset their new acquaintance, Prussia and Spain grudgingly put aside their rivalry for the moment.

* * *

It was a very brief moment, lasting no longer than an hour. Spain cast the gauntlet first, by offering France the sweets on his plate after the main courses at dinner, and getting another kiss in return, much to Prussia's outrage. But what Prussia lacked in manners, he made up for in determination and no concept of the words "fair play." He claimed the next kiss after stealing a bottle of the finest vintage for France's consumption, to the consternation of the noblemen left wondering where their wine went.

Now it was war. A pitched battle for the chance to woo a beautiful young maiden, a maiden who was currently guzzling down goblet after goblet of Spanish wine despite maintaining that French wine was far superior in taste and lineage and mouth-feel. Their weapons were to be their singular charms, their battleground France's virgin heart, the prize an alliance that would bring the rest of Europe to its knees.

As the tables were being cleared of empty plates and bowls, the merry strains of a lute and viol and drums heralded the first dance of the evening.

"Oh, are we dancing now?" France exclaimed, clapping her hands together enthusiastically and missing only half the time. "I love dancing!"

Before Spain could say anything to the effect of how he was an excellent dancer, France had already left her seat and was joining the excited young men and women arranging themselves in the center of the hall. A minstrel sang the first verse, and with a joyous answering shout, the dancers began moving in a surge of color and laughter. Prussia and Spain darted in and out of the dancers' lines, finally catching up to France, who looked perfectly at home twirling about the rush-covered floor. Grabbing their hands with surprising strength, she had her new friends stepping and skipping along to the music with everyone else.

It was at the end of the third dance before Spain could get France in his arms, away from the others. Her somewhat meager chest heaving breathlessly, she gave him an encouraging smile, her rose-pink lips parting ever so slightly…

He probably would have gotten away with kissing her first, an adult kiss no less, if Prussia hadn't managed to slide himself in between them at the last second and knocking all three of their heads together.

Rubbing her forehead with one hand, France snorted in amusement and squeezed Prussia to her chest briefly, who had the presence of mind to cop a feel before he was let go. It was a disappointing feel as gropes went, somewhat flatter and not as soft as he expected, but he got to touch French tracts of land before Spain, and that was all that mattered.

"That was so much fun, we should do it again!" France exclaimed, still giddy from the wine and the dancing and the company of two dashing young nations. Giving Spain and Prussia one last kiss each, she bade them good night, making them promise to accompany her the next morning, and flitted away to the dauphin's side at last.

Prussia and Spain stared after her as the retinue departed for their bedchambers and then glanced at each other sheepishly.

"That was weird," they wanted to say, but instead settled for the tried and true, "She likes me better!"

* * *

Spain wore his best doublet and red boots, Prussia garbed in a white tabard with the black cross of the order, his sword strapped to his side. They even bothered to scrub their faces clean and comb their hair into some semblance of order, and eagerly, they questioned the maidservants as to the whereabouts of their new friend. After suffering through much giggling and the occasional language barrier, the two of them finally arrived at France's chamber, which turned out to be a tiny room adjoining the dauphin's suite. Smirking in triumph, Prussia elbowed Spain out of the way in order to knock on the door first.

"Oy, France!" he called out. "You in there? It's me, Prussia!"

"And me, Spain!

There was a loud grumble from within, some thumping noises, and at last, France emerged from the room.

"What do you want?!" she growled, tousle-haired and bleary-eyed.

They were too shocked to see her wearing nothing but a scandalously short blue tunic to say much at first.

"Err, I… we… you said you wanted to meet us in the morning?" Spain ventured, unable to tear his eyes away from the shapely legs on display. Fearing for his soul's salvation, he silently vowed to go to confession later in the week, perfectly ready to go to many more confessions if needed. Prussia was even worse off, and couldn't manage anything past the initial "Uhh…," his red eyes wide, his mouth gaping open at seeing so much bared female flesh in one place. It really was more than he expected to see so soon in the relationship, but he ogled his fill just in case.

"Oh, I suppose I did! I'm so sorry," France murmured, her previously grumpy expression swiftly changing to one of genuine apology. "Let me get ready, it will only be a minute."

To their horror, France promptly turned around to start dressing, and Prussia and Spain simultaneously covered their eyes with their hands, peeking through their fingers at all the wrong moments, and thus missing their third chance to discover the truth about the object of their desire.

"There, I'm finished!" she announced after a few minutes, now clad in a white frilly chemise with a lovely blue and gold gown over that, her curls pulled back with a pink ribbon. "How do I look, darlings?"

"You look beautiful, France, like a delicate spring flower graced with sunlight-" Spain began earnestly, only to be interrupted by Prussia adding, quite unnecessarily, "And also awesome!"

Blushing, France tittered behind her hand, although perhaps the word "snicker" would more accurately describe the sound.

"Ahh, you two are so cute. _Merci, merci!_"

Then, ready to start the day, she flounced out the door, the other two happily following after her like baby ducks trailing behind their mother.

"Now, what is there to eat, I am starving."

"I think we can sneak some food out of the kitchens."

"I'll lead the way!"

"_Non_, I will!"

"But this is my home, I'm the only one who knows where the kitchens are!"

"Idiot, anyone can tell where they are, just follow the smell of food!"

And arguing good-naturedly among themselves, as if they had grown up being friends, the three of them headed down towards the kitchens.

* * *

It was a narrow escape from the wrath of the head chef, and shrieking with laughter, they scrambled out of the way of his ladle, stolen pastries and fruit in their arms. The three young nations decided to meet outside of the keep, and they reveled in their victory over the oppressive adults with a splendid impromptu meal.

Under the warm southern sun, Spain strummed a romantic song on his lute, while Prussia struggled manfully to create a wreath of flowers for France's hair. Spain's self-composed lyrics tended on the rambling side, and Prussia ended up making a wreath entirely out of weeds, but France loved them both, or at least said she did. She did seem a little surprised by their attentions, which should not have been the case if other nations were also courting her, but Spain attributed it to the sudden reversal in their relationship, having consisted of numerous invasion attempts up to this point, whereas Prussia attributed it to her never being approached by a knight of his caliber before, which was more or less true, though not the way he would have thought.

Spain, who normally would not give up a chance to nap for any other reason, could not risk Prussia trying something with France while he was sleeping, and so the suggestion of siesta was immediately dropped in favor of play. They snuck back to the keep and into the stables, where Prussia and Spain nearly fell over in their attempt to help France into her saddle. The other two would have noticed that she rode astride instead of sidesaddle like a proper lady, but then France announced that they should have a race, and Prussia and Spain scrambled to get on their horses, and gave it no further thought.

The winner of the race was Spain, his long-legged bay gelding reaching the pond first, though Prussia had nearly overtaken him once or twice on his fierce destrier. For second place, Prussia received a consolation kiss on the cheek, while Spain received an embroidered lace handkerchief that France had pulled out from her sleeve.

"I will treasure this forever, _Francia_," he said solemnly, holding the fabric up to his nose and breathing in her delicate perfume. Then he added, "You don't need it back, do you?"

"Oh, you can keep that, I have plenty that I've won from the ladies in court."

"Err… ladies?" Spain asked, confused.

"Well, they were impressed with my, how you say, prowess, and gave me their favors to remember them by," France explained with a laugh that spoke of many things, all of them very improper.

"What, you mean prowess on the battlefield?" Prussia piped up, still not quite catching on. She didn't look like a fighter, in his view, and even a knight as splendid as he had not won a favor… well, not yet.

"No, silly, prowess in the bedroom, what do you think?" France retorted airily.

Not sure what to think of French women now, yet terribly intrigued and perhaps slightly mystified by the possibilities revealed, Spain and Prussia found themselves falling completely under France's spell. Perhaps it was because she was a nation like them, but she was unlike any other girl they had met. Shallow and vain and shamelessly manipulative when it suited her, but affectionate and even protective, always wanting to be part of whatever they decided to do, whatever it was. Sometimes they even forgot she was a girl and that they were trying to court her, so naturally did she incorporate herself into their boyish adventures which consisted of a lot of waving swords about and yelling and running, generally away from adults who were trying to catch them and give them a good switching.

* * *

Prussia and Spain had not really been friends before, and rivalry for the same girl should have made them enemies, at least for a while. But they became closer instead, even through the bickering and banter. It was France that brought them together, and for two whole days, the three of them had never been happier.

"Whatever happens, we will always be friends, right?" France asked them once, her voice soft and wistful.

"No matter what, you can count on it!" Prussia declared.

"Of course, we shall be the best of friends," Spain promised.

"Let's promise," she said, holding out her hand. "Friends forever."

"Forever," Spain said, clasping her hand with his own.

"Forever and ever," Prussia confirmed, placing his hand over theirs.

Thus they vowed, knowing that one day they might have to turn on each other if their bosses so declared, and not the least because bigamy was frowned upon by the church. But that was for later. Today, there were shenanigans that needed to be done. And tomorrow as well, and the day after that.

* * *

Even though France did not seem to be in a hurry to decide which of them were worthy enough for an alliance, Prussia and Spain never gave up trying to win kisses and embraces and other favors from their young lady-love. It became something of a contest between them, which France was very well aware of, and she teased them both mercilessly, never giving any indication as to whom she preferred.

Today they were playing hide and seek, with Prussia the seeker. He counted to twenty, skipping eighteen and nineteen and then promptly started his search. Spain was easiest to find, he could never think of a hiding place no one else would suspect, and Prussia found him under the stairwell of the north tower in four minutes. That actually was not Prussia's intention, as he wanted to find France first and maybe sneak a grope or two where Spain would never discover. Unfortunately for him, France was really very good at hiding, so the two of them set out to find her, but together, so that neither would have an unfair advantage. Every now and then Spain would wonder aloud what their children would look like, would they have blue or green eyes, and Prussia would snort and say that their children were going to be super incredibly amazing awesome, and so on and so forth, both still believing they could have babies like their human counterparts even though they were a bit shaky as to the details of baby-making.

"Are you two blind, I'm over here!" a familiar voice called out from somewhere above, and Prussia and Spain looked up to see France perched in the boughs of an oak tree, a little bird on her shoulder. "Finally, I thought I was going to be stuck in this tree until sundown!"

"H-how'd you get up there?" Spain asked a bit uselessly while they ran over to try to help her down. But she was already swinging a leg over the branch, and as she lightly jumped to the grass, her skirts flared up in such a way that neither boy could possibly miss that their lovely France, one) did not wear underwear, and two) was more like them that they could have imagined.

"You're a boy?!" Prussia cried out, horrified because the hem of France's skirts had caught on his ear, giving him an unobstructed view of France's lower extremities. He scrambled out from under France's dress as quickly as he could, mind forever scarred. Spain's poor brain was still trying to process the fact that France was a boy and not a girl, and he stood gawking dumbly at France dusting himself off. Above them, the chatter of birds sounded like laughter, horrible, jeering, mocking laughter.

"Yes, I am a boy. How did you not know that?" he (not she anymore) asked, somewhat huffily.

"But… you look like a girl!"

"And dress like a girl!"

"How absurd, I dress like a man!" France exclaimed, and they had to admit his graceful robe and curled hair was the same style as the men of the dauphin's retinue, which incidentally was nearly the same style as the ladies, just marginally shorter in length. It had been a little confusing approaching a French person from behind sometimes, but the men very clearly had facial hair and the women bosoms. While France had neither.

"B-but…" Prussia trailed off. Never at any point in time did France claim he was a girl or boy, and they just assumed France was a girl from his appearance and behavior. "You could have at least not acted so girly," he finished, humiliated that he had made yet another mistake, this time the opposite of what had happened with Hungary. At least Hungary was still under the impression she might eventually become a real boy, whereas France definitely had no illusions as to his true gender.

"Well, this is how I normally act, _mon ami_, I didn't think what I am mattered to you so much."

Spain finally spoke up. "No, it doesn't matter, but we were surprised! That's all!" He grabbed Prussia's arm and pulled him away for a much-needed private conference.

"What do we do now, Spain?!" Prussia hissed. "If he's a boy… eww, that means we got kissed by a boy! Several times!"

"But they were nice kisses!" France interjected, and the two jumped in surprise, forgetting that France considered himself one of them.

"I dare you to find a better kisser than me! I was taught by the very best!"

Spain nodded helplessly, because it was true, Rome had been their teacher. "You are the best, France, there is no doubt about that."

"So, what's wrong then?"

That was the problem, there was nothing really wrong. But this wasn't really right either, at least from what they gathered from Mass. Prussia and Spain stared guiltily at the ground, unable to think of an answer to France's question.

France watched them in silence, then turned and fled, sobbing.

They ran after him, but France had already locked himself into his room and would not open the door no matter how much they pleaded. Finally, he shouted out something in French, translated loosely as "Go fuck yourselves" by a helpful servant passing by, and Prussia and Spain shuffled off ashamed.

* * *

Perhaps it was because they were not the brightest boys ever, but they did not give up. Of course it would be bad for Spain if negotiations began to break down between the two neighboring kingdoms, but more than that, they had to get their friend back.

Prussia attempted to get an audience with the dauphin, and because they had interrupted the prince during a moment of intimacy with someone of indeterminate gender, he grudgingly listened to their story. Even though he had no idea about a solution, since he barely understood the whims of his own nation at the best of times, the dauphin explained to Prussia and Spain that France had no friends, not even among the isles to the north, and it sounded like he had been friendless for most of his life. This would be the first time that he got a chance to play with any nations his own age, so he will most likely get over his anger out of boredom, but until then, they must suffer through it.

"What should we do?" Spain wailed in despair. "France hates us. Now my boss will hate me!"

"I can't believe he's being such a girl about this," Prussia grumbled. They did not have enough money between the two of them to buy France any jewels or suchlike, which had been suggested by a popular troubadour. Spain's attempt to charm his way back into France's heart by singing under his balcony at night had resulted in a chamber pot being thrown at them with distressing accuracy. (As proud as he was of his skills, Prussia knew better than to risk getting covered in excrement.) Now they were sitting together in Spain's room, gloomy and discouraged, knowing it was their fault things had turned out so badly.

"Wait, Prussia, we're going about this the wrong way!" Spain said in a rare moment of insight that will likely not be replicated for years. "France isn't really a girl. He's a boy!"

"Uhh yeah, we figured that out yesterday."

"Well, what do boys like? What do we like?"

Prussia's eyes widened in understanding. "You're right! That means… We have to fight France to get him to like us again!"

They punched each other in the shoulder in a gesture of masculine congratulations.

* * *

Using the techniques of the famed Hashashin of Araby, which Spain had encountered during Moslem rule and which Prussia had seen during his crusades to the Holy Land, they noiselessly lowered themselves on a rope from the window above to France's balcony. Silent as shadows, their weapons muffled with silk, their shoes padded with fur, they slipped into his room. On either side of the sleeping beauty, they paused, their eyes darkly glittering in the moonlight. Spain nodded to Prussia once, and then they attacked.

Only to have France retaliate, screaming and punching and kicking like the berserker his mother had been. But Prussia did not become a mercenary order because he was slow, and he grabbed France around the waist, bearing him down into the bed. Spain dodged the punches and placed his hand around France's throat, his other hand gripped tightly about his wrist.

"You are our prisoner now, France!"

"Do as we say, or we'll cut off your balls!" Because he had those now, of course.

France stopped struggling and glared at them hatefully. Finally, he sneered. "What do you two want?"

"We just want you to listen."

"There's nothing you can say that I want to hear," France began haughtily, then noticed Prussia unsheathing a very sharp dagger. "But go ahead and talk, and I shall be quiet."

"We promised to be friends, we won't go back on that promise, not ever."

"You being a boy doesn't change anything between us, France. You're strong and funny and nice and the best friend we can ask for. A-and if you still want me, I would love to become allies with you…"

"Hey, I thought we weren't going to talk about that!" Prussia yelled, headbutting Spain in the kidneys.

France burst out into giggles at this, and encouraged, Spain tickled him along the ribs, and Prussia was obligated to join in the tickle fight until all three of them nearly passed out from laughing too hard.

Next door, the dauphin sighed and rolled over, trying to get back to sleep. At least their fight seemed to have been resolved, now if only they will stop jumping on the bed.

It would take years before France told Spain or Prussia he loved them, and he would have been the first. It would be decades before Spain remembered to say the same thing, and Prussia never really confessed aloud because that was not his style. But that night was the first they thought it, draped all over each other comfortably, snuggled together like tired puppies and smelling a bit like them as well.

* * *

[Epilogue]

The three of them continued to express their mutual affection by repeatedly invading and claiming each other as occupied territories in long and bloody wars throughout the next several hundred years. Nobody seemed to understand how they could still be friends after the amount of damage they inflicted on each other, it was really quite inexplicable. Not that their periods of relative peace were much better for the rest of Europe, as Prussia, France and Spain were inclined to drunken escapades resulting in property damage and various counts of public indecency and requiring bail to be paid by a very exasperated Germany. But no one ever asked about their relationship, and Prussia, France and Spain were not particularly willing to tell just anyone.

One morning centuries later, France woke up in a tangle of mostly naked limbs, the sunlight streaming through the windows much too brightly. With a sigh, he gently rolled Prussia's dead weight off of his abdomen and extricated his leg from Spain's clutches. Whatever happened last night must have been exceedingly fun, even for their standards, as he was still wearing a pink lacy bra, and when he looked around, there was an Italian police helmet and a pair of assless chaps strewn on the floor amidst the empty wine and beer bottles. France laid his aching head back down on the pillows, admitting that he might be too hungover to even thinking about cooking breakfast for them, or perhaps it would be closer to brunch by now. At either side, Prussia and Spain slowly resumed their former positions, and France fell back to sleep with Prussia snoring softly into one ear and Spain drooling onto his knee.

When they next woke up, France would be wearing one of the many scandalously revealing maid outfits he owned, ready to serve them a fabulous brunch in bed. Prussia would make a noise of disgust, saying he did not need to see hairy man legs in fishnets first thing in the morning, while Spain would be obliviously scarfing down his portion of eggs and diced tomatoes. Of course, Prussia's statement would only cause France to sit in his lap, tiny skirt hiked up meaningfully high to expose his vital regions, much to Prussia's horror and Spain's snorts of amusement. They would argue next, Prussia claiming that France should be in charge of paying his therapy bills, and someone would shove someone playfully off the bed, and someone else will tackle the other two, and there would be a friendly pillow fight among the three friends until someone's uptight younger brother walked in, stared at the incriminating scene, and then quietly walked back out.

Surprisingly, not much had changed.


End file.
